A Platypus, Really?
by Lady Lanera
Summary: Set during the Summer School Series. Harry has to write an essay about the magical creature, the platypus. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen, thanks to Harry's little sister.


**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me. I just torture them.

**A/N: **Couple of things to keep in mind, Harry and Draco were adopted by Snape. Angel is Severus's daughter with Aurora Sinistra. I suppose I could just say that it's set during the _Summer School_ Series. :D This story idea comes from LemonDropsWoolSocks's mystery box that was left for me in a review. The prompts that I used were popsicles, a platypus, paprika, a Power Ranger plush, and potpourri. Enjoy the really wacky story. :D

**A Platypus, _Really_?**

I sigh, reclining on the sofa as I hold my Magical Creatures textbook in my lap. I can hear my little sister humming happily behind me as she continues to finger paint something over at the kitchen island. Draco luckily is watching her, or at least he is supposed to be watching her. I, however, am expected to finish my essay on the platypus that is due later today.

Unfortunately, though, I find the assignment to be a joke. Hippogriffs, or flying horses as Muggles call them, are one thing. But the theory that a platypus is a magical creature is just plain laughable. I mean, is it going to use its long duck-like bill to shoot out spells or something?

"I'm hungry," announces our little sister suddenly. Her long blond curls bounce softly against her face. "Draco, I'm hungry," she repeats, likely tugging on his sleeve. "Draco," she whines loudly.

"I know. I heard you the first time, Celes," grumbles the blond Slytherin.

"Well . . .?"

"Well nothing," he responds grumpily. "You've already had lunch, which was less than five minutes ago. So just keep painting your little picture."

I slowly turn around, my essay long forgotten again. As long as she isn't throwing her tantrums when I'm supposed to be watching her, I know I'm going to enjoy it. When she crumples up her drawing and throws it at Draco, I instantly burst out laughing.

"Pick it up."

"No."

"Celes, please pick it up," says Draco quietly.

"You pick it up," she replies, crossing her arms with a snotty smile on her face.

"Angel, pick it up," he repeats, staring at her firmly.

"No."

"One," Draco counts.

"You're not Daddy, Draco." Her chair then lowers itself to the ground, allowing her to get off it. She glares when Draco does the same, towering over her small stature. "I'm not picking it up."

"Two," he responds, inhaling slowly.

"Three. See, Draco? I can count too!" She then giggles softly before turning away to head towards her room.

I watch the blond glance at me. I can tell that she's clearly trying his patience today. Then again, she has been throwing these tantrums all week. She's testing the waters so to speak with us, according to our parents. I then watch Draco grab Angel around the waist and pull her against him. I wince when she screams, doing a near perfect banshee impression.

"You're being a real brat today, Celes, and I'm not going to have it. Now, you have two options. Either you pick it up and apologize to me, or I'm going to tell Severus how you asked the house elves to sprinkle paprika and cayenne pepper into Trelawney's food the other day."

"But I didn't!" cries the four-year-old, her almost black eyes turning into puddles. "Draco, I didn't do it."

"Yes, but I'll tell him that _you_ did."

I cover my mouth instantly, laughing softly when my little sister's mouth drops in horror. Draco and I are actually the culprits and are currently being punished for it, but we both know that Angel doesn't know that.

"Now, which option are you going to take?" he asks calmly.

"I'm sorry, Draco." She sniffles softly, picking up her crumpled drawing.

"Good choice," the blond replies.

"You're not going to tell him now, are you?"

"No. I'll keep my word."

"And you're not going to tell Daddy about the bowl in his office, are you?"

"The bowl in his office?" asks Draco, glancing back towards me.

"Uh-huh, the stinky bowl I hit." Her voice then rises. "But I put it all back into the bowl and put it back on his desk so he wouldn't know." She bites her bottom lip nervously a moment later. "But, uh, I well, it wasn't stinky anymore so I took to thingy Daddy had on his desk and poured it into it. It, well, it was pretty. But you're not going to tell him about that, right?"

"Dray, we should go check that," I quietly say.

"Yeah," he replies, nodding slowly. He then picks Angel up off the ground, carrying her out of the now opened portrait.

We silently head towards Dad's office, which is located just a few feet away from Slytherin's hanging portrait. Draco opens the door slowly, nodding when he doesn't see anyone. He sets Angel back down, heading with me towards Dad's desk.

"Potpourri," Draco says, pointing at the bowl.

"Of course," I respond, laughing, "the stinky stuff." I grimace at the sickening green goo that's soaking the scented dried petals. "What would happen if we just tossed it into the fire?" I ask quietly, motioning towards the flickering fireplace.

"I'm not sure," he admits.

I inhale slowly, frowning. Staring at it, I just decide to act on instinct and hope for the best. I grab the bowl and quickly walk over to the fireplace, tossing it into the flames. I close my eyes the moment I hear it crackle and take a giant step back.

"Tommy!" Angel suddenly cries, causing Draco and I to flinch. Our little sister then holds up her little green Power Ranger plush, clutching it tightly against her chest. "I left him under Daddy's desk."

"Lovely," Draco mumbles, grimacing at the happy four-year-old. "Come on. Let's go before Severus catches us in here."

"I've been lookin' for him all week."

"That's nice, Celes. Now, come on." Draco gently grabs her hand, leading her out of the room with me following them. He instantly growls when she yanks her hand back once we're outside of Dad's office. "Where are you going, brat? Get back here!" he calls after as she runs down the corridor.

"Popsicles! I want popsicles!" she happily yells, heading towards the kitchens.

Draco and I both groan, rushing after her. If Dad finds us, we're so dead. We aren't supposed to leave our rooms thanks for our little prank. The tickling pear portrait swings open just as we reach her.

"I must be seeing things because I specifically remember informing my children to remain in our rooms," Dad drawls, folding his arms across his chest. His black eyes then dart to Draco and me before resting on Angel. "You found your doll, I see."

"Uh-huh, it was under your desk, Daddy," states Angel happily.

"What were you three doing in my office?"

"Uh . . ." Angel then glances at us. "Draco and Harry spilled something into a stinky bowl."

"WHAT?" Draco and I both shout. "We did not!"

"Angel, did your brothers actually do that?"

She shakes her head, hanging it. She looks truly heartbroken. Then again, she takes Dad's disappointment really hard. She bites her bottom lip, sniffling before she rubs her nose into her sleeve.

"I did it, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"And the reason you didn't tell me this before was . . .?" Dad responds, staring at her.

"Cause you didn't want me playing around your desk," she answers, her voice barely above a whisper now and her little body shaking softly. "And I was disbaying you."

"Look at me when you're speaking to me, Miss Prince. Do you know why I didn't want you playing at my desk?" He frowns when she shakes her head slowly. "I have numerous items on there that are dangerous and could hurt you."

"I sorry, Daddy," she whispers, chewing on her bottom lip. She buries her face into his robes a moment later when he kneels down in front of her. There is no squeal of delight when he picks her up and carries her into the kitchen, motioning for us to follow.

"One blue popsicle," Dad says to a house elf, finally glancing at Draco and me.

"We know, Dad. No popsicles for us," I quietly reply. I smile softly at Angel when she slowly lifts her head up, glancing at the blue raspberry treat.

"Thank you, Daddy," she whispers, hugging him fiercely again before grabbing it from him.

"You three are going to be the death of me one day," Dad says, snorting at us. "At least I'll die happy, though." He then glances at me. "Two hours left before that essay is due," he reminds.

"Yes, Dad," I moan. My head slams down onto the table in response. A platypus is a magical creature, _really_?

**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading. :D


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